


Capricious

by DonnieHarth



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Fae, Angst, Demon Hunters, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Rating May Change, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-17 14:18:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13660737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonnieHarth/pseuds/DonnieHarth
Summary: CRAIG➡️ You are a demon Hunter.The League doesn't run things quite how you or your friends like. It's time to take action.It's time to save him, in particular.





	1. Preface

Frigid december winds swept across Craigs face, his chullo and hoodie barely keeping out the angry weather. The time was half past midnight, and quite frankly the teen would much rather be back at home asleep, awaiting the next day come sooner. Yet, instead, he had been called to the scene due to some disturbances on the shopping strip north of town. Craig held a .65 caliber pistol in his right pocket, and his carry concealed permit in the left of course. Last thing he needed was a pesky cop getting into something they didn’t know anything about, causing more casualties than necessary. Craig had been training in his field since he was probably about six, his mother teaching him everything she had learned over the years. His annoying ginger of a father didn’t know anything about his or his wife’s pastimes, not that it mattered much. Mr. Tucker was more worried about his trinkets and collectables than what his kids were doing in their alone time with their mother. For better or for worse, Craig supposes. Now, at the age of 17, he had already become a fairly respected person among the league of hunters. Respected or not, he couldn’t care less. There are only two other people who he talked to in the league anyways. If it were up to him, they would all simply dip on this and make their own. It’d be more effective and easier to manage that way, anyways.

The first of the two friends that Craig had in the league was Token Black. A tall, rather handsome and intelligent person that always seemed to be the voice of reason. If that reason was taken to, was another story. Token was born to a wealthy and loving family, his father a lawyer and his mother a hunter. Unlike Craigs situation, Mr. Black knew about his wife and sons whereabouts. It had actually been one of the main reasons that he had become a lawyer in the first place. Token was also an amazing hunter, if not one of the best. Craig himself would admit that one of his best friends would win 100 to one against him. He’d known Token for as long as he could remember, back to even his pre-kindergarten days. They seemed to always get stuck together, and it ended up being for the better when the total unlikelihood of them both taking such a peculiar path to their future ended up being put into motion.

The next was his friend Thomas. Thomas was a good kid with a sour mouth; not that he could help it. Thomas was surprisingly very tall and lean, much different from the short chubby boy he’d met in fourth grade. While not the best hunters out in the field due to his tourette’s causing him to yell out and trash the stealthiness of a mission. What was one highly redeeming quality that made Thomas a highly valuable part of the team though, he was extraordinarily intelligent and an excellent planner. Thomas and his on the spot schemes and plans were likely the reason half of the league was still alive, and how the still continue to work so efficiently. Neither of his parents knew about the ordeal, which both him and Craig had decided was a good thing. While Craig had let his side job slip in a conversation with the other, Thomas found it quite interesting and wanted to give it a shot. Considering both his parents were highly supportive of their son finally going out and getting knew friends that saw him past his syndrome, they were also very over protective, and the idea of killing the bewitched would likely be a bit over the line for them. 

“Keep heading in that direction, they call was reported to be not too far from the North Park Mall.” Thomas’s scratchy voice comes through the bluetooth stuffed into your ear. There had been a call in less than half an hour ago, two trouble makers had been caught making a scene in back of a local Medicinal Fried Chicken, and it looked to be more of a Fay type of disturbance. With an over dramatic sigh, you replied with a simple ‘okay’ before walking a bit faster. Honestly, there wasn’t anything you wanted more at the moment than to finish up what you were currently doing and go home, either to do homework or sleep. The latter seemed more like an acceptable approach at the moment. Not to say you didn’t enjoy your job, but no you totally hated it. Who would enjoy such a shitty childhood only to grow up in an even worse near adulthood? Absurd! It didn’t matter, in any case. You had already been stuck in the loop for a while now, and if you have kids, they probably would too. How entirely terrible.

Doesn’t matter now, Craig approached the shop, not seeing much of anything. Was it another bullshit call? It wouldn’t be the first time. Bratty ass kids calling to see if anyone really would come out, thinking that they were a joke and in now way shape or form a real fucking organization that works to be sure assholes such as themselves were not eaten or torn apart by forces they couldn’t possibly begin to understand. Luckily, normally he didn’t get those calls because those were normally pulled in during broad daylight, in which someone else from The League would have to deal with. Stupid, really. To think that some Fae would come out and expose themselves to the open world. It’s happened before, either a new one or one that had totally lost its mind. Even a more rare case, one would totally stop giving a fuck about its own existence and expose themselves for the fun or it, an actual death wish. But really, any of those three cases were even more rare than one in a million. Though, there still had to be someone on guard for those few cases in which this actually was the case.

Ugh, tonight was not one of those prank call night, Craig quickly realized. With a thump and some bratty behind laughter, Craig rolled his eyes. Pulling out ‘Holy Water’, and his gun, he began to make his way behind the old building. In reality, holy water was just distilled water. The purity of the perfectly clean water would extract anything that wasn’t ‘pure’ from the Fae is was used on. Who figured that out? Probably some asshole scientist that worked for the League and had plenty of jailed Fae to test on, the part of the League that wouldn’t dare be known about through the rest of the workers. Not that we didn’t know, it wasn’t kept under very tight keeps throughout the internal of the League. In all actuality, why would it be? The League is full of classified killers, so why would testing be such a big deal?

Well, it was a big deal to you, but that's besides the point. Preferably, you only hunted on Fae that were too far gone, their humanity long beyond dead. What makes humans any better to have the right to test and destroy another? By that sense, it’s hypocritical to be hunting Fae at all.  
Of course, no matter how much you bitched none of this was up to you. Well, no including the Fae you've let off with a warning. Whenever you felt it was appropriate to pull such a stunt, thankfully Thomas was always there to help cover your ass with the League. You couldn't ask for a better back up, honestly. When you finally turned the corner, you ran into a black haired Fae and none other than a Jimmy Valmer. Ah, this shall be interesting.


	2. Doctor,

Head bowed, you're shoved into your workplace by The League’s Guards. As they unlock the handcuffs holding you back, you pull your wrists together, rubbing at the bruises that might as well be scars. Turning, you watch as said guards leave, locking you into the pure white lab. Slowly, you slip off your sweater in exchange for the the perfect clean and unused lab coat. You keep your eyes down casted, as they are watching. In reality, they're always watching. This wasn't nearly the job you had assumed you signed up for, not at all. This was basically a jail. And each of your subjects a sacrifice. You apologised to each and every one, but it doesn't matter. Each of your current patients are locked up in the cells, as if they were cages for animals. You only ever had four at a time, though you were never sure when a new one would appear, and an old one would disappear. You were almost sure you know what happened, not that you were allowed to open your mouth on the subject. Even if you did though, who would hear? Your voice suffocated by the demented leaders claiming to be heros of the ‘new’ world, a world that one you and few others know is nothing more than a green screen back dropped compared to what the reality of it all. 

When you graduated, you were three years ahead and the top of your class. You supposed, being hated and picked on through you childhood in the small town you ended up avoiding the situations Eric would get you all in and threw yourself into studied. Biology, to be exact. It was a good field, always something more to learn about the earth and all the organisms on it. Upon your first year of collage at the age of sixteen, you’d been pulled aside for a job opportunity. A chance for you to learn way more than anything the top scientist would ever be allowed to know. You too it, of course. Who would be silly enough not to? And that was the last anyone had heard the name of the infamous prodigy Leopold Stotch.

You walk up to one of the cells, the beautiful Banshee one of the Fae you’d requested stayed with you as an assistant. Not because they were of any particular use, but the long time friend being someone you didn’t want to see, or even assume something bad had happened to. Though one of the many people who tormented you in their youth, they didn’t deserve anything you were sure the league had in store for them. Maybe you were still too soft, but they didn’t even know they had been Fae, or what Fae was until some showed them a video of themselves screaming not long before someone died. An odd trait for a banshee, were most people would remember the death of the person they called for, most normally being quite close to said person. Any yet, not once had he remembered, though you’d experienced the banshee’s pained screeching time and time again. 

“G’mornin’, Stan.” You greet, smiling at the blacked hair teenager sleeping across the cott in the middle of the room. You know for a fact that has to be uncomfortable, as you know your own was. Yet, no matter how much you bother, the League doesn’t bother much with lower levels such as you the the subjects. It was one of the times you’d seen the other without his classic red and blue hat on, as it’d fallen onto the floor in his sleep. Picking it up, you gently placed it on his chest and attempted to pat at his chest to awaken him. It was one of the few pieces that the League had allowed him to keep, to hold onto his life outside of the cell walls that he was forced to now call a home.

Slowly sitting up and stretching, he laughed a bit and flipped you off. “Mornin’, Butters.” Stan replied, swinging his legs over the side in order to stand, and might you say quite a bit higher than you. While you wouldn’t consider yourself short, Stan just happened to be a giant at almost six feet tall. Five foot eleven, to be exact. An inch of the mark that had him towering over your five foot seven easily. “Anyone new to mentally pick at?” He asked, dark humor thick in his voice. While, of course it was entirely new, and of course you did. This wouldn’t exactly be the job you’d both come to of known if it wasn’t. Thankfully, the one thing Stan was always amazing for was screaming in the mornings if a patient- new or old was going to near an untimely demise before the day was over. Thankfully, no such screams, so it seemed today would be an okay day. Well, at the very least, not as bad as others they’d encountered. 

Picking up your clipboard that the League had prepared for you today, you grimace at the information presented. They wanted another MRI and blood of Stan, something your friend had sadly gotten used to over the past year he’d been with you. A final blood test of the Brownie in cell three, and a physical of the werewolf in cell four. “Not anyone new,” You mutter, feeling a bad bad about the final blood test. In nicer words, it’s saying nothing more that they’ll be ridding themselves of the Fae after the day, and when you arrive tomorrow he will surely be gone, likely for good. “I need ya’ up on the table though, Fella. Real sorry, but you know the routine. Makin’ sure you’re not changin’ none means you… Safe here.”

Nodding, though clearly not the happiest with the situation, Stan makes his way onto the seat in the center of the lab, where you begin to acquire the essential tools. Alcohol swabs, IV needle, the plastic band and a few different vials. Tying the blue band around his arm, you whisper for him to take a breath before you go to insert the IV needle. Poor thing never was fond of sharps, and you couldn’t help but feel bad every time you added a new wound to the collection. Thankfully, it was over quick and you had been able to get all the tests from the one drawing. “We’ll the the MRI later.” You tell him, patting at this leg. You send off the samples, one of the League guards that always lurk just outside the door taking them from you. You knew they’d come up fine, they always did. Stan’s blood showed he was nothing more than human, which in your eyes he wasn't. Just a human who happened to scream when someone's about to die… Fun.

Returning to your area, you sit at the desk, taking notes on the various changed you’d seen to the chemical balances you’d pulled for the werewolf you’d held between both their human and nonhuman forms. There wasn’t much of any, actual. Which made total sense, considering it was the same person, just looked differently. Though, under a scope you were able to see some of the still living skin cells move, grow and multiply as the subject changed, which is quite a scientific discovery considering there would be no central nervous system on tissue that had been taken from the host. It also had gone back to original shape and size as they subject had made itself back to it’s more human form. Something he’s sure he would be forced to look into even more in the future. 

You couldn’t help but smile a bit as Stan sat himself down on the corner of your desk, making your personal space his own. “Bored?” you question, looking up to him from your work. Nodding, he picked up one of the test tubes of distilled water mixed with a copper chloride and began looking at it. “Careful,” I warn, rolling my eyes. “Shake it and it’ll explode. Water is a reactor to sodium.”

“Really? We should make a lot of it then. Destroy this hell hole.” He laughed, placing the vial down as I punched his side. I glanced to the door, seeing if any action was being taken before glaring back at Stan, trying not to laugh at his foolish plans.   
“Don’t make jokes like that! Who knows how the League will take it. They listen to everything!” I scolded, crossing my arms over my chest like a child. I don’t want to deal with the League’s bullshit! And I’m sure he doesn’t either. Everything was monitored and one slip up could very well be the end of a lot of lives.

After my small episode, I pushed my chair back and looked around the room, bored. There wasn’t much to do today, which was a good thing, yet it didn’t make the time pass by any faster. Though, you suppose it doesn’t matter. No matter how fast time passes, you’ll still be locked into the same cell at night to repeat the same jobs tomorrow. An endless cycle, really. You can only wonder what happened to the doctors before you who worked for the League. You know for a fact that there was one, as all of their works throughout their lives here had been passed down to you when you started, as if a small head start on trying to get you to understand end dissect the Fea you encountered. Disgusting, really. 

As you glance back up, you realize Stan’s been looking at you, eyes darting back down to a table on your desk. Wheeling your chair back over to it, you read the small note in Stan’s chicken scratch handwriting

‘Token has a plan’, was all it said, but it’s all it honestly needed to say for you to understand the terms that came with it. You gave him a small knowing smile in return, nodding. 

The moment doesn’t last long before a few guards are bursting into the room, wheeling in a portable cott. You turned, running to see the patient. “Fae attack.” one of the guards explained, before they all quickly made their exit. You heard a scream from behind you, but it wasn’t a Banshee death scream. Not at all. Quickly, you push Stan back into his cell, despite his screaming as he fought you. Locking the door, you repeatedly apologize before turning back to the cott. 

Taking a deep breath, you look over at your sudden new patient. You don’t think his red hair was ever that dark.


End file.
